


Firedancer

by sciencefictioness



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambassador Gray, Fire Dancing, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, No noncon, Slave Natsu, no dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one was male where all the others had been female, bright pink locks falling down into his eyes.  Tanned and muscled, clad only in loose fitting pants that were cinched just below his knees.  He also wore slave bells, heavier than the women’s, ringing louder and more clearly with each step.  His collar was thicker, well over an inch wide with a heavy ring attached in the center.  There were matching cuffs on his wrists, rings and all, and when Gray managed to look at his face he noticed his eyes were also lined, thick with kohl.</p><p>Green eyes that were gazing straight at him, and Gray startled at having been caught staring so openly.  One of the dancers from before came running out to hand the male a long staff, setting a jug down at the edge of the dirt.  He retrieved the staff and held it out expectantly, and the girl took a torch from a nearby holder and lit the ends of the staff with it.  They caught fire and stayed lit, dark tar burning hot, and then Gray realized.</p><p>A fire dancer.  This slave was a fire dancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firedancer

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno what happened. Don't look at me.

The dancers moved to the beat of the drums, sultry and slow, their nimble forms flitting back and forth across the dirt floor.  A circle of dignitaries and royalty surrounded them, and their gauzy costumes caught the light of the lanterns and torches.  Half a dozen women, all of them in finely wrought gold collars with slave bells tinkling daintily around their ankles.  The bells mingled with the music, with their dance, until the two were inseparable.  They wore loose flowing skirts made up of layers of of shimmering fabric, so thin that they revealed more than they concealed.  Their eyes were lined with kohl, lips painted red, hair twisted atop their heads in complicated buns or flowing down ornately around their faces.  Chosen for their beauty, Gray had no doubt, but he found it hard to pay attention to them as they twisted artfully back and forth.

 

If the royals of Alvarez had picked these dancers to please him, they knew less about Gray than he’d anticipated.  He moved to stand, leaning over to whisper to his brother briefly.

 

“I’m going to head back to my rooms for the evening.  I can’t sit through more of this.”  Lyon stilled him with a hand on his arm, and Gray eased back into his seat with his head cocked in confusion.  “What?”

 

“You cannot simply leave before the festival is over,” Lyon hissed.  “It is in your honor.  It would be disrespectful.”  

 

“There’s going to be six more nights of it.  I’m expected to watch every royal slave in the capital perform?  I’ve been traveling for weeks, I just want to sleep.”  

 

The music fell silent, and Gray applauded with everyone else even if he was paying no attention to the dancers as they padded off the makeshift stage.  Lyon kept whispering in his ear, furious and low.

 

“You’re going to be here as ambassador for six months, if you offend them the first night you’ll be ensuring your own misery.”

 

Gray sat back in his chair, resigned and frustrated.  He was already going to be miserable in Alvarez, had been since the moment he stepped foot inside the city and felt his magic drain away into nothing.

 

No one could use magic in the capital.  The warding in the stone that circled the city was ancient and powerful, and Gray had never felt as thoroughly helpless as he currently did.  And they expected him to live that way for half a year as Magnolia’s representative on the council at Alvarez?

 

Gray didn’t think he could manage six days without his magic, let alone six months.  Already he felt queasy, restless, a constant headache looming in the back of his skull.  Lyon assured him he would get used to it in time, but Gray wasn’t sure he wanted to.

 

But his brother deserved a chance to go home.  To feel his magic flowing through his veins again, to let the power he’d been born with fly free.  If not for Magnolia, for Lyon…

 

He would endure.

 

When the announcer called out the next performer, the last one of the evening, the relief Gray felt was palpable.  One more dancer, and he could flee back to his rooms and collapse into bed.

 

Then a slave unlike any he’d ever seen before stepped into the circle in front of him, and Gray’s breath caught in his chest.

 

This one was male where all the others had been female, bright pink locks falling down into his eyes.  Tanned and muscled, clad only in loose fitting pants that were cinched just below his knees.  He also wore slave bells, heavier than the women’s, ringing louder and more clearly with each step.  His collar was thicker, well over an inch wide with a heavy ring attached in the center.  There were matching cuffs on his wrists, rings and all, and when Gray managed to look at his face he noticed his eyes were also lined, thick with kohl.

 

Green eyes that were gazing straight at him, and Gray startled at having been caught staring so openly.  One of the dancers from before came running out to hand the male a long staff, setting a jug down at the edge of the dirt.  He retrieved the staff and held it out expectantly, and the girl took a torch from a nearby holder and lit the ends of the staff with it.  They caught fire and stayed lit, dark tar burning hot, and then Gray realized.

 

A fire dancer.  This slave was a fire dancer.  

 

The drums began, deeper than before, and as soon as the female was seated again the dance began.  The slave stomped one of his feet in time with the drums, keeping it up for a few moments, getting a feel for the rhythm.  Then he started  _ moving _ , and Gray was lost.

 

He twirled the fiery staff effortlessly, ducking underneath it, letting it flit under his legs.  The slave poured around the flames like water, liquid and effortless, totally unafraid of the heat.  His body twisted and writhed to the drums, hips gyrating, muscles flexing and stretching as he moved across the dirt.  Several times he tossed the staff into the air, rolling in complex patterns over the ground only to leap back to his feet and catch it without looking.  The sounds his bells made were practiced, only ringing when he meant them to, never jarring against the music of the drums.  

 

It was as though Gray was under a spell, held captive by both the flames and the slave who wielded them.  He could not tear his eyes away, and they followed the dancer back and forth hungrily, catching each movement, each turn, each spin.  It was art, the way he used his body to work the fire, how his eyes lit up in the glow of the blaze.

 

Gray wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching when the slave broke his staff in two with his knee, discarding one of the halves to fizzle out in the dirt and retrieving the jug that had been brought out.  He drank from it, holding the liquid in his mouth, and then took a deep breath…

 

And spat fire like a dragon, spewing the liquid through the torch he held fearlessly. He was beautiful with that fire surging out of his mouth.  It looked natural, as though he was more at home behind that blaze than anywhere else on earth.

 

Gray could watch him play with those flames forever.

 

A few more swigs of what had to have been oil of some kind, a few more breaths full of fire, and his performance was over.  The slave bowed to his audience, and with one long look cast in Gray’s direction, he was gone.

 

“See brother?  Aren’t you glad you stayed?”  

 

Gray had been staring after the dancer, eyes glued to the place he’d disappeared into the crowd.  He turned back to find Lyon smirking and amused, and realized suddenly how obvious he’d been.  Entranced by their dancer just as they’d anticipated.

 

Maybe the royals of Alvarez did know enough about Gray, after all.

 

He retired back to his rooms, tired of putting up a facade of collected calm when all he wanted to do was sleep.  Gray would have to deal with these snakes for six months without his magic.

 

He needed a good night’s rest at least.

 

…….

 

Gray’s rooms in Alvarez were more luxurious than any he’d ever stayed in.  The floors were piled with furs to keep the chill of the stone at bay, and his bed was criminally soft.  When he’d been taken there to change before the start of the festivities he’d lay down a moment, wishing that he could just go to sleep.  

 

Now that he was returning to it he could hardly contain his exhaustion.  Gray shed his cloak and shirt at the door, kicking off his boots and pants and letting his clothing fall, uncaring of where it landed.  He was already down to his underwear by the time he got to his bedchamber…

 

And found a slave with pink hair and bright green eyes kneeling at the foot of his bed, looking up at him as though he held the answers to everything.  Gray froze, pinned in place by that dark lined stare, voice spilling out without intent.

 

“Wha- what the fuck are you doing here?”  Coming from any of the other slaves in Alvarez, the response would have been seductive and sinuous.

 

Coming from this one it was a bit frightening for reasons Gray couldn’t quite figure out, and the words sat strangely in his guts.

 

“Anything you wish of me, Master.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
